Puppet Master
by Cylent Dragon
Summary: Peter's POV, sort of reflections about everthing in general. I warn you, this might completely change your views on some of the characters, Peter especially. It takes place after the books. please R


Master of Puppets  
  
You never really know what people think about you. Not really. And, trust me, that sounds weird coming from me. Because you think you know me. You think you understand me. They all do. I have never met a person who doesn't try to understand me. They think that if we all *understand* one another, everything will be perfect. But you can't.  
  
I don't try to understand people. But it's not for a good reason. The only reason I refrain from fooling myself into thinking I understand someone is because then I will never know them. You can know someone. You cannot understand someone. On second thought, let me rephrase that. You can never understand some one unless they let you. I don't let people understand me. I don't want people to understand me. I don't even let people know me. They could read me then, use that knowledge against me. I don't understand them; I know them. And once I know them I can control people. I string them up like puppets and have them dance, and let the audience know their wonderful heroes and applaud their wonderful work. Let them be the ones to bring happiness to the people. While that puppet master sits in the back and moves them from the shadows. The master is the man without a face, who no one wants to, or can, know.  
  
For a while, I though that I had made a mistake, that I had let Valentine get to know me. That seriously scared me for awhile. Because she's right you know, I do need her now. No. I don't need *her*. I need Demosthense.  
  
But for a while, I though she knew me. And that was the first time in my life I was ever truly afraid. Because I had been careless, I let her get close to me. I gave her the opportunity to know me.  
  
And that stupid bitch didn't take it.  
  
But I thought she knew me, until I heard her talking with Ender. My dear little brother. I don't say that with sarcasm. I do love him, still. I love the boy he was, and am unnerved by what he looks to have become. I know he was awake, that night when I whispered to him the truth. I wanted him to be. I wanted him to know, because if I didn't say it then, I would never say it. I wouldn't let myself. Now, I don't believe he is truly human anymore. He may become human once more, but not now.  
  
And it's not because of what he did. It's not because he protected our race, not because he destroyed another species, which was a misunderstanding. It's because he doesn't think of himself as human. In his own eyes, he is nothing but a cold-blooded killer. A machine. He wants us all to feel sorry for him. He wants someone to tell him he is human.  
  
Stupid boy. He has all those brains, but no matter how cold-blooded he is in his own mind, he still can't get past his emotions. How many times has Valentine told him, reassured him that he was a good, loving boy. But he doesn't change. She's the only one who's always told him that she loves him, all through her life, but what she says has no meaning. Because she's telling him the truth about herself. The truth that if he was a cold- blooded murderer, she would still love him and tell him he was a good boy. She coddles him, and he knows it. I wonder how he would react if I told him I still loved him. Maybe when I'm dying.  
  
But not Valentine. Not that little *whore* who betrayed Ender. And she felt so guilty after writing that letter to him, but she still did it. Of course I know that the I.F. threatened to disclose who she was. But of course, I had planned on them doing that. They're too systematic. I know them. And I had a back up plan. She should've told me. I obviously found out about it. Hacking I.F. databases isn't *that* hard. And I knew then that she hated me. She didn't want poor Ender to turn out like I did, so *violent*, so *bloodthirsty*. Well Val, are you happy? He didn't turn out like me, oh no. I never needed to skin those squirrels. I had to set you up, because I knew you. Ender isn't at all like me. He doesn't set people up, he doesn't threaten his sister, lie to his parents, try to control the world, even if it is for a good reason. No, Ender isn't like me. He doesn't use lying words to hurt people. He uses his fists and feet. I, as of yet, have not killed anybody. He thinks of himself as a killer. He has turned himself into a machine. No dear old Valentine, Ender didn't turn out like me.  
  
No, he turned out like you did. He's too easily manipulated. He hates me. He sees only the part I needed him to see, back when he was six years old. He has forgotten that night when I told him I loved him. And he thinks he knows me, just like you do.  
  
But I heard them, Valentine and Ender, talking. It was right after Valentine met him when they were going to that colony world. As I said, hacking I.F. anything is easy, security cameras included. And she sat there telling Ender "that he wasn't like me, that he didn't torture squirrels, or manipulate people. He wasn't a...*puppet master*. That I used her and was a monster. That I used anything and anyone to get power which I wanted only because I could take it. Because I was a megalomaniac. Because I was proud to be a monster. That I had no problem being hated by her, or by Ender. That I cared nothing for Ender, our precious third." And I mean that with all due respect. Val was right in that instance. The most honorable title is Third. But she said all that about me. And I though she knew me.  
  
But no matter how *I* feel about Ender, how much *I* love him, want to try and bring him back to the human he was, he hates me. In Ender's mind, I'm his own reflection, sitting there with the blood and the snake, hanging out of my mouth, while his scaly dragon self and unicorn bride walk down the isle to the finish. They walk into the new world, that colony of theirs, while I stay here, hated by the one who really counts, and loved by all those fools that the rest of the world is made up of. But no matter how much I love him, I can't just tell him that I manipulated him all these years. Because that would go against everything I've been working on all my life.  
  
Of course, Ender will be hated sooner or later. The populous will need an excuse for the next generation. To tell them why they had a whole species destroyed. And Ender will be there in the textbook, the perfect, pure scapegoat. The little boy that everyone is trying to protect right now, trying to convince themselves is innocent, will be burned at the altar, the perfect offering. The little pure white sacrificial lamb.  
  
He isn't innocent. He lost his innocence long ago. He lost it before he even left earth. And it wasn't my fault. Yes, I had to drive him. Yes, I had to sculpt his personality. Because I wouldn't do for the hero of the earth. I'm too sneaky for that. And while I can feign innocence to the stupid adults, I could never convince myself to not be happy with who I was. That is a sin all itself. But I am willing to sin for the good of others. Believe it or not, I wasn't trying to rule the world for the sheer pleasure of ruling, if there is any pleasure in ruling. And the I.F. was right about good 'ole Val. She's too soft. She wouldn't have been a very good hero either. She wouldn't have saved the world. She would feel the need to destroy the human race just so she didn't feel guilty. No, Valentine would not have made a very good hero. But Ender is just the self- pitying hero the world needed. And so I had to give him away.  
  
Does anyone know how hard it is to be the giver? So much harder than being the given. Anger is such an easy emotion as compared to guilt. I would have much rather given myself away to Battle School, been the one to kill Bonso, destroy a species. Because Ender is what I was trying to protect. All the people like Ender. But, I wouldn't fit, and sacrifices had to be made. So now I'm cold hearted.  
  
To them at least. But in truth, I am still grieved by what I had to do, and would have much rather done it myself that forced Ender to do it, but it was necessary. I had to eat that snake so that the dragon and unicorn could move on to the better world. And only we will know of the snake that had to be eaten, but only the eater will understand why.  
  
I had to be the puppet master, because no one else was willing to make the sacrifices. If I had been born earlier, found Graff earlier, he might have done well. But I wasn't. So I had to be in charge, behind the scenes. I couldn't receive the glory or attention like my doll did. I had to hide. I had to sit in the shadows. I couldn't be the hero or his steadfast steed. I couldn't be his faithful companion. I had to be the lesser villain lurking in the dark. The Master of the Puppets. 


End file.
